


A soldier's perspective

by Aguna91



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, No Romance, No Smut, more characters as the story continues, plantonic male/male relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:38:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3591489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aguna91/pseuds/Aguna91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Sacrifices are a necessary evil, every soldier worth their title know this. AU set after invasion features an emotional vulnerable Nightwing, heroes to concerned with their own grieve and a manipulative Deathstroke.<br/>Rewrite of a soldier's view, because I can't continue a longer story just like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote too much to just continue the story, so I will rewrite it. Hopefully better :)  
> Updates should be every Saturday  
> I use others, (including OC's) to show the separate emotional stages and leave the Dick and Slade interaction for the character development and main story.  
> There won't be any important OC's

The young hero sighed as he entered his apartment, patrolling was the only thing that kept him sane these days.  
Feeling far older he stripped of his costume and went to the bathroom, walking to a nearly empty living room on his way.  
The pictures of his former friends who now scoured his very existence were removed. All these happy smiles of the past seemed to mock him.  
Yet even with the security of the regular patrolling and his new extra time for his civilian identity didn't help the growing emptiness inside him.

The maybe worst part was that he understood their anger, Nightwing was the reason other heroes died and now to blame for their death.  
A hollow laugh escaped his lips but was drowned by the falling water in the shower.  
They had a right for their anger, so he let them, took their anger with a smile, being a hero meant making sacrifices.  
Having had Batman as mentor and unspoken paid for his education with emotional support helped, too.

Slowly he moved to his bed, too tired to put on clothing and closed his eyes.

 

Lack of sound awoke him, like a deer sensing a wolf his instincts screamed at him to move and not to move, carefully his opened his eyes and was greeted with the sight of Slade in his civilian clothing standing in his door way. 

The single gray eye moved from his nude form to his eyes and remained there for a few seconds, as if expecting him to move, he didn't  
Why would he?  
If Slade was paid to kill him he wouldn't stand a chance either way, he suffered enough on a daily basis, a clean painless death would be a welcome relief.  
His eyes widened, was he really about to welcome death?  
Why not?  
His family and friends, friends who hated him and a mentor who as always couldn’t care less  
Why not welcome death....

"You did the right thing you know."  
The smooth voice of his enemy interrupted his thoughts. 

"Yes coming from a high function sociopath this means so much to me", he said sarcastical, but instead of angering the older male he only got an amused smirk in return, which didn't really surpirse him. Slade liked to be in control-  
"Would you prefer my old sergeants words? 'sacrifices are a necessary evil, one life is nothing compared to the lives of your fellow soldiers, or the more poetic version the police 'Making an unpopular decision for the common good is the mark of a good police officer.  
Dick froze, those words sounded good and he had worked with them hadn't he?. Yet why of all the people had it do be Slade to understand him? "What is it to you?" he asked instead in a soft tone, too confused for anything else.  
"Do you know what I think of heroes?" asked Slade in return,"they are civilians playing dress up, none of them really understand the world out there. But you acted like a real soldier during the inversion, to be honest I've gained a certain amount of respect for you because of it while the others lost what little I had for them."  
That was unexpected to say the least, "they are not weak", Dick started as Slade sharply cut in," they can't handle their own emotions so they punish the man who saved billions of lives, those ignorant backstabbing civilians are weak."  
He winced not only because of the harsh words, but because a small part of him agreed, didn't the billions of lives he saved matter at all?  
"Answer me one thing, do you regret your actions, actions which saved billions of lives fo the price of a few heroes who willing risked their lives everyday for their cause?"  
Dick paused, he mourned what his actions had done for the life of others and some selfish part even for his social life , but no he didn't regret that he saved the world...  
The answer must have been written all over his face, because Slade gave him a small pride filled smile.  
A nine year old Robin, desperate for his mentors approval, basked in the warm glow while his adult self-awareness screamed of the impending danger it promised.  
“Any soldier or higher ranking policeman for that matter would be proud of your decision if you don't belief me asked your captain, officer Grayson.  
Slade gave a short nod as a goodbye and left, leaving a storm of emotions within Dick behind.

 

A graveyard, with the taste of bile in his mouth Slade moved through his former apprentice nearly empty apartment. Spartan furnished would be the kinder way to describe the flat. His boy seemed weak, like a beaten dog accepting the abuse and going so far as to welcoming death. He wouldn't tolerate such behavior in his chosen heir and partner.  
Circumstance like these made him wish for his old trigger and a Nightwing unaffected by the probes. Yet he had one ace, captain Crawford his butlers real son, to confirm the things he had told the hero.  
His words alone wouldn't be sufficient but to have them spoken by someone Dick respected without questioning the persons moral should be enough...  
He couldn't wait for tomorrow night...  
'Weak civilians', the phrase hunted his not quite sleep until the alarm clock rang, reminding him of his civilian job as a police officer. 

There was a time when the lives of four heroes had been more important too him than the safety of one city...

Officer Grayson moved slowly through the streets, the coffee in a plastic cup nearly forgotten because of the chaos in his mind.

Years ago as Slade had threatened his friends, other orphan heroes and siblings by heart, lives he had picked their safety above thousands of civilian lives.  
This time he decided differently, did he change?  
Had he been selfish as a teen or was false pride clouding his own judgment.  
Proud, like Slade?  
No, yes, maybe?  
Was he proud that he had mastered such a difficult mission?  
Yes, honestly he was and he didn't force anyone did he?  
Heroes were meant to make sacrifices, or did that rule only apply to him?  
Sometimes it seemed like it...

'Weak civilians'  
He paused at the red traffic light and noticed how others around him stopped. The effect of a policeman near a traffic light.

'Weak civilians'  
You always know better don't you, as if the rules didn't apply to you.

'Weak civilians'  
He had given the costume he had created in his parents memory as a gift to Batman to keep him sane, to give him light and how was he repaid?  
Silence, as if Bruce didn't understand his decision the traitor.

'Weak civilians'  
Aqualad knew of the risks didn't he? Yet he agreed...

'Weak civilians'  
He understood their grieve, but was it right to blame him?

“Grayson”, Dick blinked as he was suddenly in front of the police station, officer Crawford stood in the entrance and called for him.  
A somewhat overweight man with a very military attitude.  
Rumor had it he was the son of a soldier who couldn't make it into the military because of his weight.  
He felt a little pity for the man, so he gave a salute while answering,“Yes, sir”.

Obviously pleased Crawford added slightly kinder, “I expect you at 5pm in my office, dismissed”, with that Crawford entered the building and Dick looked at his wristwatch.

3pm enough time for a late lunch, on his way to the canteen he came across sergeant Amy Rohrbach and gave her a slight smile, which she returned.  
The knowledge that his former instructor still liked him was a welcome relief from with thoughts.  
Suddenly her smile turned into a frown and Dick's heart nearly stopped, not her too...

“You left this morning with a full cup and it is still full, didn't you drink anything?”

“I”, he begun but was unable to form words as Amy continued.

“Are you forgetting to drink again? And dare I ask when was the last time you ate?”

The young man blinked, he had eaten yesterday hadn't he?  
A loud growl answered for him, obvious the last meal had been too long ago.

 

At first she had been slightly envious how her former rookie could eat the worst the canteen had to offer and still stay in shape, however she noticed how he ate less under stress.  
Not in the way of leaving leftovers, a plate was always emptied, maybe a habit of growing up in a rather poor circus?  
He simply seemed to forget to eat...  
She had enough experience with psychological damaged people to recognize a eating disorder when she saw it.  
Without further questioning she took her unresisting colleague's arm and lead him to the food selection

“He takes a salad, the roast beef with vegetables and the fruit-salad as dessert, as drink a glass of lemonade”, she ignored the protests beside her, satisfied with her choice which should have covered  
his nutritious needs. 

“ I take a fruit-salad and cup of coffee, unlike other people I ate lunch at a regular time”, she said to quieten her former student.

Paying for both of them, it wouldn't be fair to order for him and than expect him to pay, she led him to an empty table and sat down.  
Dick followed her example with a slight glimmer of not slid tears in his eyes which she forbade herself to comment on.  
She had seen the boy, too an old woman like her the young man would always be a boy, far too many times like this.  
If she asked, he would make a bad joke and start a different conversation about nothing important.  
It hurt that he didn't trust her enough, but she still cared for him and if feeding him was all she could do, than she would feed him.

“You will sit her until you ate everything are we clear Lance Corporal Grayson”, she asked in a serious tone.

“Yes, madam”, he answered softly while moving his head downwards so that his eyes were covered from her view by his hair.

They ate in silence, truthfully she wasn't hungry but she had to make sure that he finished his meal and if her small act of motherly kindness had brought him into such a state than he needed fare more of it.

During the meal she had to bite on her lower lip as she saw tears dropping down on the salad and managed to remain silent.  
Finally the painful meal was over and she stood up, Dick followed her example again.  
After they brought their dishes back she pulled him without further thought into a a tight hug.  
The boy shivered in his arms but didn't fight the hug, instead he cuddled closer and closed his tears covered eyes. 

“I'm sorry”, he whispered in a thick voice.

She had no idea what the child was sorry for and wanted desperately to ask.

“It is alright”, she whispered instead soothingly and rubbed with her right hand over his back.

 

Dick was sorry for the lost lives, he really was, but it had to be done.  
He buried his face deeper in the warm embrace and aloud his grieve to pour out of him, because more than grieving their loose couldn't be done.  
They are dead and the world saved for another day, without their sacrifice Amy, his colleagues, his family, the whole damn world would have been lost.

Taking a deep breath he pulled himself together, “thank you”, he said with a honest smile and looked into her eyes, not ashamed of his fallen tears.  
Their lose would still hurt, but he couldn't live in the past, there would be no more tears.

His superior gave him a sad, but relieved, smile.  
Black canary, the team mother, hadn't offered him a therapy season...  
Because unlike his sergeant she was a 'weak civilian' …

He hated how Slade's words explained everything, even more how much comfort they gave him.  
The mercenary's words shouldn't be allowed to do that...

Noticing that he had 15minutes until his appointment he went to the bathroom and afterward waited before the office until he was called.

“The fat pig is making you wait for his call?”, asked a colleague who was on the way to his own office. Sergeant Cassidey was an older man, who spent his retirement from the military as a poliece officer.

“Sir”, replied Dick neutrally to his badmouthing superior with his eyes still fixed on the door.

“No wonder Bill wouldn't want him to carry the name Wintergreen, a Wintergreen is a real soldier and not a worthless pile of junk food.”, continued the old man maliciously with a grin.

“Wintergreen?”, his demanding tone earned him a startled look, yet the opportunity to gossip too great, so the other continued.

“Yes his father William Wintergreen disowned him for some reason and instead took in some soldier he picked up during the war, Wilson or something like this. What is it to you Lance Corporal?”, inquired the old man.

“I know Wilson's d... grandson Joseph, the man is a real piece of work,” Dick paused, hopping his little slip up would go unnoticed. Not everyone knew that Slade didn't age.  
Spreading personal knowledge to others might be dangerous for his own secrets...

“Did he threaten you what happens to you if you turn his grandson gay, pretty boy?”, asked the other not unkindly. 

“He seemed more worried that I turn him into an enemy of the NRA”, that earned him a laugh and a pat on his back.

“I know Grayson, you don't like weapons, but sometimes you need to shot someone if it saves others,” was added in a serious tone.

“What if your plane saves a whole building with people but costs the lives of two comrades”, blurted past his lips and the other gave him a worried look.

“I have no information about something like this had happened here, but once you take the badge you swear you life to the cause. Dying in battle is the greatest way to go and nobody should blame their superior for such a plan, it is all part of the job. Their leader gave the right orders”, he finished and gave Dick's should a light squeeze in comfort.

The difference between people with a cause and 'weak civilians', added his thoughts. Had Cassidey just confirmed Slade's words? He had, hadn't he? Yes...

“I have some more paperwork to finish, if you need anything you know were my office is”, with that he went into his office.

Dick looked at the closed door, was Crawford ordered by his father to give him a pro military speech?  
Did Slade try to manipulate him? Well, yes, but this was old news.  
He nearly laughed at the revelation, this was something familiar, something he could deal with.  
Forming a bright smile he entered the office as he was finally called in.  
The question if he was alright was rather blunt and he answered lightly that yes, he was.

The difference between people with a cause and 'weak civilians'.  
Heroes, dressed up civilians were still 'weak civilians' .

For the first time in weeks he felt alright...


	2. Acceptance

Acceptance

“Tell Wintergreen it was nice to meet his son.”started Dick the conversation as he sat down.  
He had chosen his dining room for their conversation, on the table were two plates with each one fork and spoon and twos bowls with a ladle each, one filled with noddles the other with a tomato sauce.  
Two glasses and a bottle of water complemented the setting.  
Honestly it was nothing but a power-game, he put the mercenary in a position were he had to trust Dick enough that there wasn't poison in the offered food or something else, like crushed glass which could cut his windpipe, and eat it like a good little boy.  
Yet, after his own rather pathetic display the day before, he felt like this was needed.  
Furthermore he was still dressed in his uniform including the weapons and the handcuffs, an improvement to his previous nudity, and somehow the uniform made him feel better about himself.

“He will be glad to know that his son is doing well”, answered Slade without missing a beat in a clam voice, as if he just hadn't called his attempt to manipulate him.  
The older man was dressed in his civilian attire, as if to show that his presence meant no harm, while the single gray eye was locked on the relaxed facial features belonging to the younger man.  
It was pleasant to see the lifeless features in a softer light and given the attire he was rather sure why.

“Would you like to sit down?”, offered Dick. unconsciously mimicking the same tone, looked at the chair across him and tried to stay relaxed under the sharp gaze of the other..

A glint of something the hero couldn't identify flashed for a moment through the older man's eye as he sat down with a slight smile, it unsettled him,

“I hope you like a vegetarian sauce”, commented Dick while trying to regain his clam posture and sat down, too.

For a moment neither Slade nor Dick moved, waiting for the other to take the first bite, finally Slade took from each bowl and raised a full fork to his lips.

“You know”, he started conversationally, “ there are three ways to interpret that you are waiting for me to take the first bite.  
The first way is that this is a test of trust, whenever I trust you enough not to poison my food,  
An other interpretation, would be that you are waiting for me, your guest, to eat as a show of good manners.  
Finally it could also be a show of respect towards your superior.

“However”, he paused as he carefully took the first bite, “neither of us uses poison, it goes against our honor to have an unfair fight so the first guess seemed wrong.”

A pause which gave Dick enough to curse his own failed attempt to manipulate Slade while putting himself in a submissive position. 

“And you have displayed in the past more than once that you lack any inhibition to curse rather rudely in front of me, which means this dinner is a sign of respect or did I conclude something wrong?”, he asked with a slight smirk.. 

“I just wanted to keep you out of my bedroom”, replied Dick mock sweetly which earned him a chuckle.

“Now that's a shame isn't”, played Slade along, still in a very good mood.

The younger man just rolled his eyes and started his meal, too.  
“It might be that you are clothed and with weapons but you seem more confident”, noted Slade during their meal in a neutral tone 

“The handcuffs are a nice bonus, too”, answered Dick lightly.

“Back to the bedroom talk”, teased the mercenary and the hero sighed in extravagant weariness. 

“But you don't need the uniform to carry weapons don't you?”, asked the mercenary in a neutral tone.

“I prefer to stay in uniform”, responded the younger man and nearly cursed as he saw the glint of something in the others eye flash up again.

Slade's behavior grew sober as he paused his meal and pulled on a piece of skin around his neck which turned to be a skin colored chain with his old dog tags.  
Despite the years of knowing the older man he hadn't known that Slade sill wore his old army insignias,somehow it didn't surprise him.

“The chain is skin colored so your enemy don't see it and won't be able to use it as a weapon against you,” figured Dick and got a small, serious, smile in return.

“A possibly weakness I shared with you”, he paused as the implications of his words sank into the others mind.

Slade, at least to some extent, trusted him...

“These small metal plates are like you badge and uniform, they show and remind us that we aren't civilians but men with an oath.  
Yes we have different moral codex’s, we have ours and they have theirs.   
Without commentary each one is correct, but the separation is very important, especially when you are faced with question to which you belong.  
Now you sit here in your uniform, I dare say you made your choice didn't you?.

Understanding, the glint in his eye had been understanding, figured Dick finally as he allowed the words to sink it and closed his eyes as if in defeat.

“There is a honor code among soldiers, rules how to and even more not to treat a fallen enemy. For example you don't hurt them even more once they are down.  
Or this is at least how it should be,” Slade's tone grew bitter for a moment, as if remembering things he had rather forgotten.  
“I see you as an enemy if you go between me and my target”, he spoke again in a serious tone, but I don't dislike you as a person, actually I value you as someone who could one day be my equal.  
Staying with a bunch of self-righteous civilians who you used to care for will destroy you and I don't want that to happen.”

Silence stretched between the two as Slade finished his speech, no more words were spoken that evening.

'civilians'  
He walked down the halls of the tower with a new self-confidence.  
'civilians'  
Ignoring the dark looks or pointed show of looking away from him he continued on his path.  
'civilians'  
Slade was right...  
'civilians'  
His enemy...  
'civilians'  
A man who still wore his dog tags...  
'civilians'  
Heroes, just a bunch of civilians playing dress up.  
'civilians'  
His own police badge secure on his right ankle.

'civilians'  
They didn't understand.  
'civilians'  
He was a cop, a real one.  
'civilians'  
And he didn't understand them.

'civilians'  
Did he ever agree with them, or did he just follow orders like a good subordinate?  
'civilians'  
They had raised him after their ideals since he had been eight...  
'civilians'  
He had followed their teachings and now they hated him...  
' weak civilians'  
They didn't have the spine to follow their own ideas of right and wrong.  
'Weak civilians'  
They didn't have the spine to face a real battle.  
'Weak civilians'  
They needed someone else to clean their mess.  
So he simply smiled a small polite smile and hold his head high, clam self-confidence radiating from him like light from the sun.

Disgusting.  
If you asked Wally West to describe his former best friend in one word it would be the disgusting. Their friends were killed because of Nightwing and what did the man do? Smile like everything was alright in the world, as if it wasn't his fault that they were death...  
Revolting.  
How could Dick be so heartless, when had his friend become such a monster?


	3. Truce

Disclaimer: Don't own

Truce

'I don't dislike you as a person, actually I value you as someone who could one day be my equal'

'Someone who could one day be my equal'  
These words shouldn’t matter to him, Dick thought as he walked through the streets, enjoining the fresh morning air. Their station had three shift system, the morning from 6 am to 2pm, the afternoon from 2pm to 10pm and the night from 10pm to 6am. He preferred the morning shift, patrolling as a officer was a nice relaxation after patrolling the night in costume.  
Near the local primary school he slowed down, it was nearly 8 am and the children were in a hurry to get to school. Hurry lead to careless behavior within the adults and children so every school day at least one of them had to stay in sight and indirectly encourage them to use their knowledge how to properly cross a street and parking a car.   
An easy but somewhat nerve ruffling job, which allowed one to eat a submarine baguette in peace while watching over the crowed as long as the whistle to get crowds attention wasn't needed.

'One day he could be his equal'  
The mere thought seemed absurd. Slade had challenged the entire League of Justice and nearly won and he should be able to do the same? The bell rang for the first time signaling the children should be on their way into the old school building which caused the general hectic of the crowed to increase.

'One day he could be his equal'  
While he and his team had managed to deal with Slade before it was only because the man was taking a little time out from his real alter ego Deathstroke the Terminator. As much as it hurt his pride the first time to admit, but the man had been playing with them. Or in a kinder way, he had been lightly training with them.

'One day he could be his equal'  
In Buldhaven he had come across Slade in full Deathstroke mood, the encounters had left him unconscious in a safe place with the older man's target dead. Despite himself he was grateful for his consideration. He paused in his thoughts as he a group of people nearly ran to the street next to the school and used the whistle to make a high sharp sound. Startled they stopped just before the street and, once recognized the sound, made a show how they followed the rules while they crossed the street … 'Civilians'

'One day he could be his equal'  
He could admit to himself how seductive the promise of so much power sounded.

'One day he could be his equal'  
People would stop thinking of him as the first of Batman's sidekicks and really respect him...

'One day he could be his equal'  
His old mentor would have to respect him...

'One day he could be his equal'  
If he could defeat the League of Justice in their own little game they would have to understand that a badge was needed wouldn't they? That they needed a different mindset to really protect the people, otherwise they wouldn't have lost to him would they? 

'One day he could be his equal'  
Yes he wanted the power, not just for himself but for them to see the reality...

'One day he could be his equal'  
However Slade only wanted to train someone as his heir and he wouldn't become a murderer, even though some of the heroes might argue that he already was one... 'Civilians'

'One day he could be his equal'  
Yes he wanted the training, but not at any price. It wasn't as if the man would offer his services as a trainer for free.

 

Lex Luthor leaned back in his chair, the day promised to be interesting...  
Under normal circumstance an appointment with Slade Wilson was a rather simple matter. The man was one of the best in his field, a more than competent employee, one to be hired when needed for a rather delicate situation. He wasn't cheap, but quality came with a price that was not the problem. Yet it wasn't him, Lex Luthor, who wanted the meeting but Deathstroke, which created the question why? Men like Wilson, men like himself, fought their own battles, asking for help was like admitting defeat to them, so a fight should be out of question. As for his technology it was brilliant, yes, but there was little one couldn't buy and he really couldn't image Deathstroke having financial problems. The thought alone seemed absurd. Of course someone wanting him dead and getting Wilson for the job was a possibility, yet he had enough money to make the man reconsider and kill his first employer, it wouldn't be the first time something like this happened with the mercenary involved. A certain royal family was proof for that.  
In conclusion he couldn't think of anything Wilson might want of him or his help for a rather disorienting feeling, how some people claimed that ignorance was bliss was beyond him.  
"Mr. Wilson has arrived", sounded the voice from his secretary, a sweet looking asian woman who could kill a man within 5 seconds, a man had to keep standards hadn't he? He dismissed the idea of letting Wilson wait, until he had reason to act otherwise it was the best to keep the man in his good graces. Straightening his spin he sat with a perfect posture in his chair, that he didn't believe the man was about to become an enemy didn't mean he could show weakness either.  
Slade entered, dressed in an expensive suit and a fake matching gray eye where normally sat the black eye patch. He could have easily slipped in a crowed of businessman and wouldn't leave a lasting impression, it also told Luthor that whatever was to be discussed valued secrecy while making the possibility of an assassination attempt less likely. Deathstroke had a certain honour, attacking without giving his prey a chance just wasn't his style.  
They nodded in greeting and Slade sat down, "if you don't mind my schedule his rather full these days, so lets skip the pleasantries," started the mercenary smoothly. Lex's mind was racing what event could value so much of the mercenary's time? The lack of answers was infuriating, so he forced a polite smile and nodded.  
"Inofficial official the city Buldhaven is my territory," stated the man, explaining nothing to Luthor. It wasn't like he would challenge his claim, the city was hatchery for criminals nothing more. And even this aspect was weakening, the former partner of Batman was making the place less welcoming and even motivated a few of the cops to become honest, leading to an interesting question.  
"I do believe the oldest son of the Bat has already staked a claim," he replied, Deathstroke wasn't about to kill Nightwing was he? It would be a declaration of war to the older heroes, no matter what childish little dispute they had currently about which methods were okay to safe the world. How anyone could admire people who fought about such a thing, mindless sheep. Yet if he was, he would become the enemy number one, giving people like him a golden opportunity to plot, maybe even to destroy the heroes completely...  
"My claim includes the live and well-being of Nightwing, his actions have shown an intelligence and willingness to fight superior to the other heroes. The young man has potential I believe to be wasted in his current social circle," Slade's voice was didn't leave room to question the claim. Yet Luthor wasn't convinced. Sacrificing a few pawns to win a game was hardly a sign for intelligence in his eyes. Wars had been fought like this for centuries, it had been slightly surprising that a hero would do such a thing, yet the smartest child in class for children with special needs was still no future Noble laureate. Furthermore as much information as the young hero had, he really couldn't see him betraying his family and friends.  
"You want to turn him into a mercenary?", he asked to clarify, saying it out loud made it sound more like something the Joker would do, was Deathstroke loosing his edge? Or worse, was the high function sociopath becoming a simple psychopath? Who could he hire to terminate the Terminator?  
"I'm taking an interest in his skills, he already to agreed to train with me", was the smug reply. His careful posture of polite interest was lost for a moment, this couldn't be true could it? Yet why would Wilson lie about such a thing?  
A smirk hushed over Slade's lips, causing him to reach instinctively for the emergency alarm. "The necessary sacrifice he made isn't something the heroes seem to understand, making him question the adults he had come to worship since a very early age. No matter which decisions he is going to make, the path is more than interesting to me, honestly he reminds me a little of myself." No there was nothing insane in Slade's words or actions as far as he could discern. Had the young hero really so much potential? Could the young male become more than a multicoloured copy of the Bat with bad jokes?  
"What exactly is my place in your plans?", he asked instead, his mind starting to reëxamine every fact he had about Nightwing.  
"I would appreciate if the word spread that any villain of a certain caliber deciding to visit Buldhaven will die a very painful death. Nightwing has still strong bonds to the other heroes and it wouldn't do for them to reconnect during a battle." This sounded like a careful thought of plan, no delusions just plain facts, lord if Deathstroke really could get Nightwing to betray his friends and family? Was there any hero the golden child didn't have a connection and knowledge of? Image Superman being sold out by his beloved nephew...  
"I assure you will get time for your experiment", he said in his best charming politician voice. It seemed as if he just gained a new source of entertainment, either watching a hero fall from grace or seeing the almighty Deathstroke fail...

The young man paused as the smell of cooking food greeted him in the hallway. His shift had just finished and he hadn't been sure whenever to make a light snack or go directly to bed, these 16hour or more days filled with patrolling in and out the uniform left him famished and tired, usually the tiredness won.  
It was a nice, yet unsettling surprise, someone had broken into his home and was preparing food.   
Carefully moving, not to make a sound, he entered his kitchen and dining room in one.

Before the stove with his back turned to the entrance stood Slade with a frying pan and two fish in it. The rice cooker was also turned on and on the dining table were two plates with each having a slice of lemon on it. A knife and fork were next to each plate as well as a filled glass with water.

'You are in my kitchen, uninvited, and preparing lunch', Dick said slowly as if the speaking the words out loud would help him to grasp the situation better.

The older man turned around, revealing again a civilian attire, and gave a sharp smile.  
“I figured it was my turn to cook', he answered playfully and placed the fish on the plates, “the rice should be ready once you finished your shower around 3.10 pm”

“You know when I sleep”, said the hero in the same tone as before and than simply sighed as his stomach growled.   
He was too tired and and hungry right now to deal with implications of theses words, so he left for the bathroom.

The young man stripped down and threw his uniform in the laundry basket. Entering the cabin his thoughts became clearer, if Slade had really wanted to harm him than he had already had two chances to do so, he wouldn't be ambushed while he was defenseless under the hot water, would he? Trusting his instincts he closed his eyes.   
What was this about? Pay back for the dinner, or in his case thick breakfast, the day before?  
Maybe, he poured the soup on his head and carefully massaged it in as if to unknot his thoughts, but there had to be more to it hadn't it?  
A yawn escaped his lips as washed the soup out of his hair, he was neither physical nor mentally ready for another round and just wanted to sleep, the food be damned.  
Yet, once he finished the shower, he dressed in the blue trousers, white t-shirt, and black boxers, which had been prepared for him and went to the dining room.

Slade already sat down, on each plate was fresh rice and looked as if he was perfectly at home, Dick had no idea how he should feel about this.

Without a word the younger man sat down, too, and took the first bite. He really didn't want to think of the implications of trust or respect his action had, so he took the safe route and told himself that Slade always displayed a certain degree of manners and was simply being a good host.

“I didn't know you could cook”, the younger man started lightly and got an amused chuckle in return.

“A single man learns how to cook sooner or later”, was the equally light response as Slade also started to eat. 

While they ate in comfortable silence a dark restless part of the heroes mind whispered how he grew accustomed to Slade, the only one who really knew him and showed him any kindness.   
The other officers didn't count, considering they didn't knew about his second job.  
Tired he shoved the words away, he was still human and needed human comforts.  
At least this was a point were it didn't matter if one wore a badge or was a civilian, voiced another softer part of his mind.   
Something he could connect with the other heroes, it continued, bridge the gap between them.  
No matter how childish they were, he still missed them, he missed the light and serious conversations with Wally, his best friend.

“Such simple dishes are one of the first thing you learn”, said Slade seemingly out of nowhere and Dick focused again on the man before him.  
For a moment something harsh and unforgiving flashed in the single gray and eye while his body and facial features seemed as relaxed as always.  
The hero had stopped looking anywhere else for signals about Slade's mood, simply because it was nearly impossible to do so, yet his eye usually gave him away.  
His own sapphire blue eyes stayed locked with the gray one, unhindered by his long black hair, and saw another flash, this time pleasure. A primal part of Dick always grew nervous whenever the gray of a common metal flashed up, like a sword catching the light of the sun, and prepared himself for the intending strike.

“You appeared to be lost in thoughts and I wouldn't want you to fall asleep”, was added in a lighter tone, yet there still was an edge to it. The man couldn't have been angry because he didn't pay attention to him for a few minutes, could he?

“You make dinner but you wouldn't want to carry me to bed?”, Dick asked lightly to further diffuse the tension and saw how slight lines of unvoiced laughter grew around the older man's lips.

“I'm afraid I would be far to tempted to resist”, played Slade along and they sat again in a comfortable silence, focused on each others company.

Once they finished their meal Dick cleaned the dishes while Slade still sat down.

“Aren't you going to leave?”, asked the hero honestly confused. The warm shower and good food left him very tired and he really wanted to go to bed.

“I wanted to make you an offer” said the other in a serious tone, “I enjoy your company and I dare say you enjoy mine.”

He paused, but Dick didn't comment, so he continued.

“I would like to propose a truce between us, I won't take any jobs in Buldhaven and you will ignore my activities outside your city.”

The younger man frowned unconvinced, turning Buldhaven into a safe area from Deathstroke had very little appeal especially with the cost of being forbidden from at least trying to stop him outside the city.

“Why?”, he inquired instead, play nice so that he won't leave aren't you alone, sneered the dark voice inside his mind at his question behavior.

“So that we could enjoy the shared meals on a much more regular schedule and I already bought a house here, so we could even train together”, finished Slade his proposal and waited for the answer,  
his posture grew still, like a predator lurking for it's prey to make the next move.

'One day he could be his equal'

“If someone flees from or through Buldhaven I will have the right to protect him or her”, left Dick's lips before he could think about it.  
The price wasn't that high compared to the new skills he could gain to stop others, the softer voice in his mind added soothingly.   
Your scared he will leave you alone, pointed the dark voice out again, it was cold and and calculating almost like Bruce in his teacher mode. He is offering you food and a warm place to stay, as if you were a stray dog he wants to tame, it continued, but Dick ignored it. He stayed inside Buldhaven anyways didn't he?  
The renegade hero wouldn’t be unless something or someone threaded the whole League of Justice, what harm could there be...

“You drive a hard bargain, don't you”, replied Slade lightly, “I agree to your terms of our truce”.

To seal their deal the older man stood up and offered his hand. Dick took the old callused hand with his own softer one and sealed their truce


End file.
